The Legendary Triangle
Discover water, wine and wildlife on NSW’s Legendary Pacific Coast, writes David Whitley.
Mark is full of reassurance. “If you hear footsteps and grunting noises on the roof at 3am,” he says. “Don’t worry. It’s not monsters – we got rid of all of them.”
The Port Stephens YHA is on the cusp of the Tomaree National Park, one of the best places in Australia for spotting wild koalas. Some of them, it appears, have a fuzzy sense of the National Park boundaries.
But these aren’t the critters that most visitors come to Port Stephens to see. Geography has done the area an almighty favour, creating a large, secluded estuary where bottlenose dolphins can hang out without having to battle raging swells.
Hundreds live in the area, and as the Moonshadow V approaches the northern headland, the cry goes up. The pod we encounter is swimming west at high speed – the boat struggles to keep up. But soon they start riding along with the wake, gracefully leaping in and out of the water as if aiming for perfect synchronisation. Some dip under the boat and return on the other side, playing tricks on the camera-toting passengers.
Port Stephens is a logical first stop if trying to turn the southern stretches of The Legendary Pacific Coast Touring Route into a long weekend road trip from Sydney. Combined with Newcastle and the Hunter Valley, it makes an easy loop circuit.
But before Newcastle comes the remarkable Sahara-esque Worimi Conservation Lands. These dunes – the largest moving sand mass in the southern hemisphere – stretch for miles alongside Stockton Bight. They’re a big favourite with quad bikers, but for anyone wanting to get sand absolutely everywhere, grabbing a board is the way forward. Port Stephens 4WD tours runs sandboarding trips, and it quickly becomes apparent that the most energy is expended trekking up to the top of the dune.
Once there, it’s a case of sitting on the board, with fingers trailing in the sand behind you as a largely hopeless braking and steering mechanism. Speed picks up fast as the makeshift sledge careers downwards. If you’re lucky, it glides to a dignified halt at the bottom. If not, it’s a case of either bailing off or face-planting to the sound of raucous laughter from everyone else present.
Newcastle itself comes as a surprise. The heavy industry is still there, but the last couple of decades have transformed the foreshore of the Hunter River. You’d be hard-pushed to find a more blissful day in an Australian city than strolling along said foreshore, flitting between museums, parks and brewhouses, then continuing up the coast.
The city does a fine line in beaches, but it’s the pools between them that weave a magic spell. The Newcastle Ocean Baths are a giant art deco people-watching arena, while the convict-dug Bogey Hole ups the thrill factor by having the surf smash into it, drenching anyone foolish enough to stand on the side.
Seemingly equally foolish is self-driving in wine country – and that’s why many companies run wine tours around the Hunter Valley. But played smart, driving can be the way to expand your horizons. Dropping by at the tourist information centre on the way in works wonderfully – their printed guides have maps of the wineries, stating which ones do which varietals and staff will direct you to smaller cellar doors that are more likely to cater for your tastes.
I tend to like big, fighty reds, so I’m pointed in the direction of Piggs Peake – a backroad winery that doesn’t serve tour groups. Most of its business is done via a membership club – meaning you’re unlikely to see the wines in a supermarket. And the free samples reveal themselves to be the meaty, feisty monsters I whole-heartedly love.
The limitations of self-drive sampling can turn into strengths. Staying under the drink-drive limit involves forcing you to ask questions about which wines you’re most likely to enjoy and narrow down the number of samples to the ones cellar door staff particularly recommend. Not being in a group leads to a much more personalised service – and, if you ask nicely, further recommendations for other wineries that may fit the bill. It starts becoming a treasure trail – Adina also does olive tasting, there’s excellent cheese to try next to the big McGuigan cellar, Peterson’s does rare-for-the-Hunter Zinfandels.
In the morning before heading back to Sydney, I pop into Kevin Sobel’s on Broke Road for a sneaky final tasting session. As an unusually sweet, fruity verdelho is poured, out walks Archie. He’s the winery’s resident St Bernard, ever-ready for a good fussing. The road trip ends as it begins – with a heart-warmingly unexpected wildlife encounter.
